


White Light

by bittenfeld



Category: Power Rangers Dino Thunder
Genre: M/M, Male Slash, Pre-Slash, Pseudo-Incest, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:06:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4626351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On his eighteenth birthday, Trent has an unexpected request for his adoptive father…<br/>Version 1:  Anton says "no".<br/>Version 2:  Anton says...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Version 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place some time after my previous DT fic, “Roughing It”.

“You said, on my eighteenth birthday, I could ask for whatever I wanted.”

Laying his book aside, Anton stretched out long legs. “Yes. And I promised I would see about getting it for you.”

Even in the lamplight of the study, the high color flushing the boy’s cheeks was visible as he stood before Anton’s chair.

“Well, I know what I want.”

Tight white jeans encased slender legs, loose white shirt hung open upon lean muscled chest and shoulders. A faint sheen spangled smooth hairless skin, a fine sweat of nervousness, of anticipa­tion.

“And that would be…?”

For a lingering moment the young man didn’t speak, but watched the older man directly, dark eyes big and bright. Shock of black hair hung unruly over attractive face.

He moved closer so that their thighs touched.

Anton didn’t shift away from the pressure. Even through their clothes, the heat of the boy’s body was discernable. Finally it was Anton who broke the silence. “Are you trying to seduce your father, boy?”

“No.” Color flushed brighter, as the youth reminded, “Because you’re not my real father… and I’m not a boy anymore…”

“That’s true.”

“I want you… to give me my first time… I want to lose my virginity… with you.”

Anton blinked, then looked down, expression mild. Of all the things he might have consi­dered Trent requesting, sexual enlightenment was not one of them. He frowned.

The young man looked crestfallen.

“You’re angry.”

“No.” Anton shook his head. “It’s just… not… what I would have expected.” Long fingers curled about the smooth youthful hand, thumb pensively stroking the knuckles.

He smiled to himself. Because of his position, because of the money and power he wielded, how many dozens of times had women – and men – attempted to seduce him in any number of con­trived sensual situations – and how many times had he easily, carelessly, turned them aside without a further thought? And yet – here – the boy’s clumsy attempt, endearing in its naïvety and artlessness, sang straight through his flesh, stinging arousal open in its wake.

The young man misinterpreted the smile. “You’re laughing at me, then.”

“Not at all, Trent. I respect the courage it took for you to come forward and sincerely ask that of me.”

“But you’re not going to agree to it.”

“Trent.” A light sigh. “It’s true I’m not your real father, and you’re not my blood son, so we would be perfectly within our rights to do it. But it would damage the relationship that we do have, it would hamper our living together as family. Sooner or later you would regret it, and resent me, and that would drive us apart. And I don’t want that to happen.”

The young man shook his head insistently. “No, I would never feel that way!”

A quirk of lips in a thoughtful smile. “You don’t understand… at your age.” Hand rested on a slender hip, fingertips caressed, grazed down the groin indentation, taking faint liberties not even considered before, yet did not touch – quite.

A slight moan broke sharply from full lips.

Then taking both hips, and maneuvering the young man to stand between his knees, Anton looked up straight up into the boy’s hazy expression. “So, I don’t know that I can – that I should – give you what you ask for.”

“Don’t touch me then – it only teases me.”

But Anton didn’t remove his hands, and Trent didn’t shift position. Touch slipped down lean muscled thighs. “I’m more than twice your age, Trent. And besides, if you’re hoping we can be lovers, you’re mistaken. I won’t be that for you. Besides, I already have a lover.”

“I know that, and I’m not asking for that. I’m asking for one time – just one time.”

“Trent, it wouldn’t be the experience you think it would. My sexual practices are not for you.”

“I know what you and Dr. Oliver do.”

“No. You don’t. You have no idea what you’re asking for. You couldn’t handle it, and any­way, I would never do that with you.”

“Maybe I could handle it. I’ve seen you and him the day after. I know you guys do it rough.”

“You don’t have any idea what we do, boy. Besides, what Dr. Oliver and I do together is private, between the two of us alone. No, no matter what, I won’t ever share that with you.”

Trent nodded. “Yeah, sure, I understand.”

Reaching up to the young man’s face, Anton caressed the ball of a thumb across full soft lips. Those voluptuous lips parted slightly, and large dark eyes drifted half-closed.

“Trent.” With light pressure, he coaxed the boy’s head down, then allowed himself the bare touch of his own lips to the sweet prize. At the contact, Trent whined a tiny moan and quivered slightly; and a shiver skittered over Anton’s skin as well.

But this was treading dangerously close to complete surrender for both of them, and although the youth was perfectly willing to continue, Anton would not, and deliberately broke the kiss. That much he would give – that much, and no more. And pulling back, he gazed into the young man’s face. The desperation emanating from the boy, tighten­ing his expression, was nearly a palpable thing.

“Please…” Trent whispered, barely aware that the word had slipped from his lips.

Fingertips slipped over warm full cheeks, down the throat to feel the rapid flutter­ing pulse beneath the skin, then slid barely beneath the thin white shirt material to caress lightly, briefly, over delicate skin tacky with sweat, before finally breaking contact and dropping back to Anton’s side.

“Now go,” he urged gently, quietly. “It’s late.”

Trent nodded, reluctance and frustration creasing his brow. “Sure. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Trent.”  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The door opened noiselessly. Quietly Anton stepped in and approached the bed to watch the sleeping form there. To slide into the bed and take the young man thoroughly… It would be so easy – it would be beyond easy. And he knew Trent ached for it – the boy’s hunger was raw, desperate, and so open, so vulnerable.

The young man must have gone ahead and relieved himself, because the heat of arousal was truly torture at that age – impossible to ignore, im­possible to shut down. A teenage boy didn’t have the mature ability to cool it by will alone, as an older man could – or better, simply deliberately en­dure in sweet torment, to let it burn, unfulfilled and ruthlessly demanding, deep and hot within aching loins.

But what Anton had announced earlier was the simple, if blunt, truth: however much they both might want it, anything they did in that direction would most certainly destroy what they already had.

And that price, for a mere moment of pleasure, was far too high.

The form shifted. A drowsy murmur. “Dad? what is it?”

“Nothing, son,” Anton reassured calmly. “Go back to sleep.”  
* * * * *

“What about your friends?” Anton asked, as Trent joined him at the breakfast table.

“Ethan and Conner?” Setting down a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, and taking his chair, the young man shook his head. “They don’t… lean that way…”

“Mm, I see. Well, since I did promise to fulfill your request one way or another, I do have an idea of someone who might be receptive..”

“You don’t mean Dr. Oliver…?”

“Absolutely not. Since he’s your teacher, it wouldn’t be ethical. But even more than that, I won’t share him… with you…”

“Well, I sure hope you’re not thinking about one of those old fossils on your company board…”

Anton smiled indulgently. “No, I would never do that to you, son. However, there is another possibility…”  
* * * * *

Approaching Jason, Anton stated, “Mr. Scott, I have a favor to request of you.”

“What do you want, Mercer?” Jason countered belligerently.

Dryly Anton shook his head. “Well, first I’d like to declare a truce – I’m tired of fighting with you, Jason, I think we’ve cleared up our differences. We’ve settled about Tommy. There’s no reason to keep up the antagonism.”

“All right,” Jason agreed grudgingly. “So, what favor do you need?”

“As you know, my son, Trent, just turned eighteen.”

Jason nodded. “I was at the party.”

“Yes, well, some time ago, I had promised him that when he turned eighteen, he could make any wish, and I would do my best to fulfill it for him. Naturally, I expected him to ask for a car, or an apartment, or perhaps an entertainment room of his own, something like that.” A long pause.

“He asked for me to initiate him – sexually.”

Instantly Jason’s hackles raised and eyes glowered, fist clenched, lip twitched in nascent snarl.

“Don’t worry – ” Anton assured levelly, “I turned him down. However… I wondered if you might consider his request in my stead.”

At that, Jason blinked. “Why me? After all that we’ve…”

“Because he trusts you… and I trust you with him.”

For a lingering hesitation, Jason watched him, understanding the gravity of that comment from his one-time adversary, and Anton held direct eye-contact as well. Then Jason asked, “Does he know that you’re asking me?”

“No. So if you’re not interested, I won’t mention it to him, and I won’t bring it up again. However, if you don’t mind accommodating him, then I’ll let him know. And if it that’s okay with him, then however you both choose to go about it, is strictly between the two of you – I don’t need to know. I know that you would never hurt him, and that’s all I care about.”

Finally Jason nodded slightly. “Sure, you can tell him, if he wants to, I’m willing.”

. . . . .

 _to be continued someday_ …


	2. Version 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anton says "yes" - sort of...

“You said, on my eighteenth birthday, I could ask for whatever I wanted.”

Laying his book aside, Anton stretched out long legs. “Yes. And I promised I would see about getting it for you.”

Even in the lamplight of the study, the high color flushing the boy’s cheeks was visible as he stood before Anton’s chair.

“Well, I know what I want.”

Tight white jeans encased slender legs, a loose white shirt hung open upon lean muscled chest and shoulders. A faint sheen spangled smooth hairless skin, a fine sweat of nervousness, of anticipa­tion.

“And that would be…?”

For a lingering moment the young man didn’t speak, but watched the older man directly, dark eyes big and bright. Shock of black hair hung unruly over attractive face.

He moved closer so that their thighs touched.

Anton didn’t shift away from the pressure. Even through their clothes, the heat of the boy’s body was discernable. Finally it was Anton who broke the silence. “Are you trying to seduce your father, boy?”

“No.” Color flushed brighter, as the young man reminded, “Because you’re not my real father… and I’m not a boy anymore…”

“That’s true.”

“I want you… to give me my first time… I want to lose my virginity… with you.”

Anton blinked, then looked down, expression mild. Of all the things he might have consi­dered the boy requesting, sexual enlightenment was not one of them. He frowned.

The boy looked crestfallen.

“You’re angry.”

“No.” Anton shook his head. “It’s just… not… what I would have expected.” Long fingers curled about the boy’s hand, thumb pensively stroking the knuckles.

He smiled to himself. Because of his position, because of the money and power he wielded, how many dozens of times had women – and men – attempted to seduce him in any number of con­trived sensual situations – and how many times had he easily, carelessly, turned them aside without a further thought? And yet – here – the boy’s clumsy attempt, endearing in its naïvety and artlessness, sang straight through his flesh, stinging arousal open in its wake.

The young man misinterpreted the smile. “You’re laughing at me, then.”

“Not at all, Trent. I respect the courage it took for you to come forward and sincerely ask that of me.”

“But you’re not going to agree to it.”

“Trent.” A light sigh. “It’s true I’m not your real father, and you’re not my blood son, so we would be perfectly within our rights to do it. But it would damage the relationship that we do have, it would hamper our living together as family. Sooner or later you would regret it, and resent me, and that would drive us apart. And I don’t want that to happen.”

The young man shook his head insistently. “No, I would never feel that way!”

A quirk of lips in a thoughtful smile. “You don’t understand… at your age.” Hand rested on a slender hip, fingertips caressed, grazed down the groin indentation, taking faint liberties not even considered before, yet did not touch – quite.

A slight moan broke sharply from full lips.

Then taking both hips, and maneuvering the young man to stand between his knees, Anton looked up straight up into the boy’s hazy expression. “So, I don’t know that I can – that I should – give you what you ask for.”

“Don’t touch me then – it only teases me.”

But Anton didn’t remove his hands, and Trent didn’t shift position. Touch slipped down lean muscled thighs. “I’m more than twice your age, Trent. And besides, if you’re hoping we can be lovers, you’re mistaken. I won’t be that for you. Besides, I already have a lover.”

“I know that, and I’m not asking for that. I’m asking for one time – just one time.”

“Trent, it wouldn’t be the experience you think it would. My sexual practices are not for you.”

“I know what you and Dr. Oliver do.”

“No. You don’t. You have no idea what you’re asking for. You couldn’t handle it, and any­way, I would never do that with you.”

“Maybe I could handle it. I’ve seen you and him the day after. I know you guys do it rough.”

“You don’t have any idea what we do, boy. Besides, what Dr. Oliver and I do together is private, between the two of us alone. No, no matter what, I won’t ever share that with you.”

Trent nodded. “Yeah, I understand.”

Reaching up to the young man’s face, Anton caressed the ball of a thumb across full soft lips. Those voluptuous lips parted slightly, and large dark eyes drifted half-closed.

“Trent.” With light touch, he coaxed the boy’s head down, then touched his own lips to the sweet prize. At the contact, Trent whined a tiny moan and quivered slightly; and a shiver skittered over Anton’s skin as well. He meant no more than a chaste kiss, no more than a little gift to the boy – and to himself – yet the temptation was too great to ignore, the promise of that sweet mouth; and Anton’s tongue slipped out to gently lick and prod, until those lips opened in pure unadorned invita­tion and offered him full access. And he took it – this one time only – penetrating to taste, explore, rub tongue to tongue. Eagerly the boy fell into the kiss, giving as he got, excitement taking the place of lack of experience.

But this was treading dangerously close to complete surrender for both of them, and although the youth was perfectly willing to continue, Anton would not, and deliberately broke the kiss. And pulling back, he gazed into the young man’s face. The desperation emanating from the boy, tighten­ing his expression, was nearly a palpable thing.

“Please…” Trent whispered, barely aware that the word had slipped from his lips.

From the corner of his eye, Anton could see the young man’s erection straining at the tight mate­rial of his jeans. Anton knew he had to be suffering – the heat of arousal impossible to ignore, im­possible to shut down at his age. A teenage boy didn’t have the mature ability to cool it by will alone, as an older man could.

And Anton could not deny the pressure and urgency building in his own inner core as well. He could force it down if he chose – or better, simply deliberately endure in sweet torment, to let it burn, unfulfilled and ruthlessly demanding, deep and hot within aching loins.

He could endure – the boy could not.

A decision made – not one of hot wild passion, but rather calm rationality, a temporary solu­tion at least.

Reaching for his suit-coat laid aside, he withdrew a large linen handkerchief from an inner pocket, and folded it into quarters. Then in unhurried motions, he unzipped the jeans before him; and at the touch the young man whimpered. Eagerly, desperate to relieve the tight aching pressure of the denim, Trent pulled his swollen organ out, then started to work the hot flesh, but Anton only calmly stilled the young man’s trembling hands.

“No,” the seated man countered.

Eyes closed, the boy nodded understanding. Mouth gone dry, he licked his lips. Then to brace himself, he leaned forward to rest his hands on Anton’s shoulders.

Almost worshipfully, Anton took the erect weeping organ in the handkerchief. He would not touch bare skin to bare skin, but covered the shiny rosen head with the several folds of linen, reveren­tly like a veil, and held it. Another whimper broke from the young man’s throat, and he couldn’t help but thrust into the gripping hand. The older man did not actively rub, but let the young man move as he wished. It did not take long, only a few hard trembling strokes before orgasm took over and drove the boy upward in spiraling transcendence. A sharp cry broke from those full lips, jolt after jolt jerk­ing through the slender body, fingers clutching Anton’s shoulders spasmically. And through it all, Anton did not bother to look at the inti­mate flesh cradled in his hands, but rather up at the young angelic face caught in ecstasy, sweating, straining in beauty. Regardless of what might come of this evening, what regret or dismay, Anton would always remember that pure innocent expression given to him alone. And Trent didn’t know it at the time, couldn’t know it, but there was no greater gift he could have offered.

When finally the boy’s consciousness returned to earth, Anton carefully removed the cloth, and folded it wet-side in, then pressed it into Trent’s hand.

Moist eyes watched the older man. “I… don’t know… what to say…” the young man mur­mured between panting gasps.

“Don’t say anything,” Anton urged.

“I want to give something back.”

“It isn’t necessary.”

Trent looked down at Anton’s unrelieved erection visibly swollen beneath the material of his slacks. “But you need it too.”

“It’s all right, Trent. I’m fine.”

Concern creased the young brow. “But when I asked for this, I meant for more than just my getting off. I meant for…”

“I know what you meant. It’s all right.”

Fingertips slipped over warm smooth-shaven cheeks, down the throat to feel the rapid flutter­ing pulse beneath the skin, then slid barely beneath the thin white shirt material to caress lightly, briefly, over delicate skin tacky with sweat, before finally breaking contact and dropping back to Anton’s side.

“Now go,” he urged quietly. “It’s late. I’ll… consider what you’ve asked.”

Trent nodded. “Sure. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Trent.”

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The door opened noiselessly. Quietly Anton stepped in and approached the bed to watch the sleeping form there. To slide into the bed and take the young man thoroughly… It would be so easy – it would be beyond easy. And he knew Trent ached for it – the boy’s hunger was raw, desperate, and so open, so vulnerable.

But what Anton had announced earlier was the simple, if blunt, truth: however much they both might want it, anything they did in that direction would most certainly destroy what they already had.

Well, there was more than one way to fulfill a promise.

The form shifted. A drowsy murmur. “Dad? what is it?”

“Nothing, son,” Anton reassured calmly. “Go back to sleep.”

* * * * *

“What about your friends?” Anton asked, as Trent joined him at the breakfast table.

“Ethan and Conner?” Setting down a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, and taking his chair, the young man shook his head. “They don’t… lean that way…”

“Mm, I see. Well, since I did promise to fulfill your request one way or another, I do have an idea of someone who might be receptive..”

“You don’t mean Dr. Oliver…?”

“Absolutely not. Since he’s your teacher, it wouldn’t be ethical. But even more than that, I won’t share him… with you…”

“Well, I sure hope you’re not thinking about one of those old fossils on your company board…”

Anton smiled indulgently. “No, son, I would never do that to you. However, there is another possibility…”

* * * * *

Approaching Jason, Anton stated, “Mr. Scott, I have a favor to request of you.”

“What do you want, Mercer?” Jason countered belligerently.

Dryly Anton shook his head. “Well, first I’d like to declare a truce – I’m tired of fighting with you, Jason, I think we’ve cleared up our differences. We’ve settled about Tommy. There’s no reason to keep up the antagonism.”

“All right,” Jason agreed grudgingly. “So, what favor do you need?”

“As you know, my son, Trent, just turned eighteen.”

Jason nodded. “I was at the party.”

“Yes, well, some time ago, I had promised him that when he turned eighteen, he could make any wish, and I would do my best to fulfill it for him. Naturally, I expected him to ask for a car, or an apartment, or perhaps an entertainment room of his own, something like that.” A long pause.

“He asked for me to initiate him – sexually.”

Instantly Jason’s hackles raised and eyes glowered, fist clenched, lip twitched in nascent snarl.

“Don’t worry – ” Anton assured levelly, “I turned him down. However… I wondered if you might consider his request in my stead.”

At that, Jason blinked. “Why me? After all that we’ve…”

“Because he trusts you… and I trust you with him.”

For a lingering hesitation, Jason watched him, understanding the gravity of that comment from his one-time adversary, and Anton held direct eye-contact as well. Then Jason asked, “Does he know that you’re asking me?”

“No. So if you’re not interested, I won’t mention it to him, and I won’t bring it up again. However, if you don’t mind accommodating him, then I’ll let him know. And if it that’s okay with him, then however you both choose to go about it, is strictly between the two of you – I don’t need to know. I know that you would never hurt him, and that’s all I care about.”

Finally Jason nodded slightly. “Sure, you can tell him, if he wants to, I’m willing.”

. . . . .

 _to be continued someday_ …


End file.
